Pivot
by REDskies
Summary: With each decision, the pivot swings differently. Multi-pairings, a collection of ficlets and drabbles.
1. Leave or Stay

**Leave or Stay**

_I don't own Fruits Basket, and it all belongs to Natsuki Takaya. Spoiler warning for the story below_

- || -

He smiled at her, patronizing, mocking. "I'll be right back, okay, Akito-chan?"

They were too close to _not_ be on a first-name basis. Too close. Far too close. The feminine honorific was simply placed at the end of her name as a reminder of the deed just done; It lingered in the darkness, like a bad aftertaste to medication.

She didn't reply. She knew that it wouldn't matter either way, if she asked him to stay, or if she let him go. Because of all the power she posessed, none of it applied here, in this room with him.

Because power came with assurance. And assurance, she had none of, lying there, naked, and jarringly female.

Tightening the sash, Shigure looked over his shoulder, back at the lying form on the futon.

"I'll be right back," he repeated, smiling.

He didn't come back, and she spent the time contemplating how much she hated his smile.

- || -

They no longer even bothered to pretend that the whole thing was an accident, and it was all falling into something which scarily resembled a routine. He would get up first, put on his robe, smile at her, and tell her that he'd be right back.

And he never would.

"Akito-chan, I'll be right back, alright?"

She didn't even know why he said it anymore. There wasn't any sincerity, any promise in those words for either of them, let alone any truth. But perhaps, it was just as well as he repeated it today.

"No."

"No?"

"No. You will stay."

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued by this new turn of events. And he decided to play along, just because he was that type of man (even knowing full well of the outcome)h.

"I will stay, Akito-chan?"

"Yes you will."

"Why will I stay?"

Akito swallowed. She knew it was a cheap trick by now, but it was all she had left. The only thing she had, against such a puzzling _conundrum_ like him.

"Because I am god, and you are-"

He laughed, the sound resonating in the room lit by the evening sun, stopping her flow of shaking words.

"Are you?"

She didn't know what to say. His eyes bored into her, like they could see everything. Everything past the skin, past the bones, right to her very core, where a tightly bound box sealed up all of her worries, desires, fears. Then it was no longer a matter of knowing what to say, or what not to say.

He _knew_. He could see right through her.

And while he walked away, pushing the sliding door back behind him, she simply lay there, wondering why she was so very easily scared in his presence.

Needless to say, he didn't come back.

- || -

This time, while the tension of sex was still stiff and heavy in the air, Akito found herself being the one who got up first. She pulled on her bindings, her shirt, her pants, all while feeling his gaze on hers, the laughter on the edge of his lips.

_Amused? Tsk._

Turning around, she looked at him full in the face. "I won't be coming back."

Shigure had the decency not to laugh, only to smirk when the sliding door was back into its place, and Akito gone.

"Sure you won't."

- || -

She hated the one closest to her; The one furthest from her; The one who could see through her each and every time.

She _hated_ him.

- || -

**A/N:**

_There we go, first one up. This will be a series of drabbles/ficlets based on the Fruits Basket universe, with multiple pairings and characters in each chapter. I myself have finished the whole series, so there probably will be quite a few spoilers throughout the whole collection. Also, this is my first time writing for this fandom, so critique on characterization and such is very much appreciated, as are comments and suggestions, even prompts. Thank you for reading, and I promise that future A/Ns won't be half as long as this one. (June)_


	2. Sohma or Koizumi

**Sohma or Koizumi**

_I don't own Fruits Basket or any of the characters. No spoilers this time, really. _

- || -

In her young, romantic mind, the choice was already made.

Sitting there, teetering on the edge of her seat, Mitsuru ware barely able to suppress the urge of leaning forward to peek across the desk, over to where the files were, in her boss' hands. Her hands fidgeted, tweaking the material of her dark blue suit.

Dark blue, as her mother had taught her, was the best colour to wear when working in the office. It didn't make you lose your femininity, as brown was prone to do, nor did it highlight it a gaudy amount, which was why you should never wear a full suit of pale pink. Of course, Mitsuru's mother was an old lady who lived her life in a society where women were hardly seen at desks, and more commonly next to pails of water and laundry, but she supposed that her kaa-san had somewhat of a point. And besides, having gotten so far, Mi-chan didn't want to take any risks with her dream job.

After years of slaving over term papers and reapplying lipstick at job interviews, she was finally here. An editor at an official publishing house, ready to work with her first author. Her boss had arranged for all the official meetings, introduced her to all the right people, and with a few well placed smiles and a rather large wave of good karma, not only one, but two authors had shown interest in her.

And now the choice was in her hands.

Furukawa-san looked up from the two files, and smiled kindly at Mitsuru. He knew her type, young, brimming with excitement and romance for the job. And this one was lucky enough to actually have authors interested in her.

"So, Mitsuru-san, have you made your decision? Both Sohma-san and Koizumi-san are rather interested in taking you as their editor, as you know."

Oh she _knew._

She was sold the first moment she met him.

That smile, those eyes! Mitsuru was positive she'd never seen anyone more charming. And he was a writer! Of all the charming and handsome men she had the pleasure of meeting in her life time, less than half turned out to be vaguely intelligent, and a quarter of that interested in the literary life. There she was, thinking that things couldn't get any better, when he announced that he would most likely ("Most likely, Sohma-san?" "Aah, well, my ideas tend to be a little... Flighty.") be a romance novel, perhaps even the first of a series.

It took all of her to stop from grinning like an idiot.

While Mi-chan genuinely loved the writing and the literature, she wouldn't be one to deny the fantasies of being together with a writer. They would work together on a book (a romance, most likely), and she would edit it, page by page, offering her witty and grammatically-correct opinion. He would laugh, and the following conversation would ensue.

"Honda-san (A completely random name), I don't think this part here should go like that."

He would look over her shoulder, onto the page and frown thoughtfully. "Why not, Mi-chan?"

"Well, I don't think its very possible. Or feasible."

She would turn her head to look at him, their faces inches apart, and he would smile.

"Hm, you sure? Let's test that out then..."

And he would lean in, press his warm lips on hers, and she would-

"Mitsuru-san?"

Mi-chan tried her best to pull herself back to reality, and replace that silly smile on her face with a professional one.

"I think I'll be editor to Sohma Shigure-san."

"Are you sure? Koizumi-san took a great interest in you as well, you know."

"I am sure, Furukawa-san. But if I may ask, what happened to Sohma-san's last editor? He's already published a few books, right?"

After a few 'mm's and a couple of 'aah's and a lot of straightening of his clothes, Furukawa realised that not replying wouldn't be an option, and there simply wasn't anything he could say to make the truth of it less startling.

"I heard that she... Well, she chose to uh. Have a career change."

"... A career change? Well, maybe she just realised that this wasn't quite the correct path for her, right?"

"... Yes, perhaps so," he mumbled, reluctant to be the one to pull out the fire extinguisher on her flames of enthusiasm, metaphorically speaking.

"Anyway, I'm confident that it will turn out well. Sohma-san already discussed the plans he has for A Summer's Sigh, and I quite like where it seems to be going! I think we'll be able to get a first draft of the first few chapters out by the end of the month." She smiled, sitting up straighter.

Furukawa sighed, as he signed the papers. He knew where this would be going. Handing the file to her, he nodded. "Alright then. Update me, Mi-chan."

Mitsuru literally jumped up from her seat, grabbing the file. "Thank you, Furukawa-san! I promise I won't let you down!"

As he watched her leave, Furukawa polished his glasses, looking down at the files in the drawer, labeled "Resigned". A new file had just been added last month, courtesy of the same author he had just assigned his new employee to.

_I hope he doesn't break Mi-chan as fast as he went through Sakura-chan. Or Rei-chan. Or Kei-kun. Or..._

- || -

**A/N:**

_I was planning on giving Mi-chan a family name, but decided against it. Mitsuru will be Mitsuru. Nothing much else to say, really, other than Shigure really seems like a crappy deadline-meeter (laughs). Hope you enjoyed it, comments, criticism and suggestions are all welcome. Thanks for reading!_


	3. Halfempty or Halffull

**Fandom: **Fruits Basket  
**Collection/Title:** Pivot- Half-full or Half-empty  
**Rating:** K  
**Summary:** With each decision, the pivot swings differently. Machi and Yuki. Its all a matter of perspective.

- || -

Fidgeting around on her bed, Machi looks at the room around her. Books are askew, a flowerpot on the narrow windowsill knocked over, its contents strewn all over her desk, contrasting to the stark white of the assorted papers beneath it. Her bookbag is the only thing remotely upright, slightly slumping to the left at her feet. Flexing her foot experimentally, it joins the long list of Things Not In Place, as a plethora (yes, the use of that word is justified, if one would care to take a look at the contents of her bag) of items spilled out onto the already-filled floor.

It has not been a good day.

"Bad", she thinks, would be a rather grave understatement. However, when put into perspective, it was just like most other days. (And that last thought served to remind her of how extremely joyful her life currently was.)

She had woken up late, her alarm clock being muffled under a large pile of clothes in the corner. Sleepily squinting at the digital display of it, Machi came to realise it was the worst kind of late possible. There was late, which involved a maximum of ten minutes of oversleeping, and would result in her running to school to make it in time for the second bell. And then there was late_,_ which involved any thing of more than an hour of muffled beeping coming from the device. No one would ever notice as she slipped into her second class, skipping the first.

And then there was _late_, a cross between the former two, which would, no matter what her course of action, inevitably result in her being caught by the discipline committee, being called to her form teacher (sighing a symphony and rubbing her wrinkling forehead) who would tiredly reprimand her for tardiness, and ask her to _please_ behave.

All in all, it had a way of throwing her whole day off, as if her days were not thrown off enough.

Classes went through in a blur ("Kuragi-san, your answer?" "..." "... Kuragi Machi-san?" "...?" "... What about you then, Masuke-san?") as they always had, with her successfully tuning out most of the droning and lecturing.

Lunch went by, with her forgetting her bento, and not making it in time to get anything from the canteen.

When she was about to leave for home, Kimi loudly announced her presence in Machi's class, grabbing the poor girl by the arm, only to drag her to the student council room, where the meeting (forgotten) was to be held. Ten minutes. Twenty minutes. Time ticked by, and there was only Kakeru and Machi in the room which-

**Ding-dong**

… _Speak of the devil? Its not like anyone else comes by here._

"Kuragi-san! I'm sorry to bother you but..." Yuki, standing in the doorway, wet spots on his woolen jacket, seemed abnormally flushed and flustered for, well... Yuki.

Machi stood there, unblinking.

His gaze darted around the door-frame, a fleeting glance at Machi's (I-am-not-amused) face, at the floor, and back up.

"But its _snowing_, Kuragi-san," he finally said, seeming to realise what a pathetic and flimsy excuse it was, to come to someone else's house uninvited.

She looked at him, and he looked back at her, blood rushing to both of their cheeks (though for differing reasons).

"I mean," Yuki finally added "if you don't want to go out and make the footprints like we said, that's fine, and I'm really sorry to-"

His words were cut off by the slam of the door, as he was left in the empty hallway once again. Yuki swallowed, realising (belatedly) what a mistake it had been to come over. He was contemplating the pros and cons of staying or leaving, when the door was flung open again, revealing Machi in her own coat and boots, as she locked the door behind her.

There was just a little awkward moment between them, as the two of them looked everywhere, but at each other, wondering who would be the first to crack.

"... It won't snow for long, right?" It was a statement, more than an actual question, but Yuki got the message, as he followed her quick steps down the hall.

- || -

They both sat in her room, faces flushed with the cold wind of the outdoors, sitting closer on the edge of the bed than they probably would have liked (a small oasis in a room of disarray), tea nestled in their hands. She'd invited him in not because she'd wanted to, but more out of courtesy. Machi may not have been the most polite of them all, but she did know her manners when it came down to it. Perhaps not all that her mother (the word seemed to bite her tongue and dry her throat simultaneously) had taught her, had come to a complete waste.

Sitting in companionable silence (far better than the one which had stretched between them in the hallway, a half hour and one street of snow ago), Yuki accidentally shifted his foot a bit too much to the left, and knocked over a small stack of books.

He looked over, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but he knew that for her, for this situation, it wasn't what was needed. So he smiled, and looked back down into the murky green of his tea.

"So how was your day?"

Machi considered it, sipping at her own cup, looking at the newly created mess (in a room of messes).

"It was pretty good."

- || -

**A/N:**

_Arghhhhh. This one did not come out at all like what I wanted it to come out as. God. But the longer I drag this one out, the less-like-what-I-wanted it will be. So... Whatever. Sigh. I'll try to do better on the next one. I promise. Still, comments?_


End file.
